


shall i compare thee to a summer's day? thou art hot as fuck.

by enbyboiwonder



Series: 50 Kisses [4]
Category: CSI: Miami
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23199154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbyboiwonder/pseuds/enbyboiwonder
Summary: It is the height of summer in Miami, his A/C is broken, and Ryan Wolfe is a Northerner who was not built for this kind of humid high heat.
Relationships: Jesse Cardoza/Ryan Wolfe
Series: 50 Kisses [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642000
Kudos: 11





	shall i compare thee to a summer's day? thou art hot as fuck.

**Author's Note:**

> I love Ryan's dramatic ass

"I regret ever moving down here," Ryan groans. He's lying spread-eagled on the kitchen tile—which was blissfully cool a few minutes ago and is now only growing uncomfortably warmer by the second—wearing only his boxers and an undershirt worn thin with age and use, and his sweat-damp hair is plastered flat against his skull. He would rather die than lie here one second longer, but on the other hand, he would rather die than move a single muscle. The ceiling fan in the living room whirs away on high, for what little good that does him here, on the floor a room away. It is the height of summer in Miami, and his A/C is broken, and Ryan Wolfe is a Northerner who was not built for this kind of humid high heat.

He hears footsteps pad over to him and opens his eyes in time to have his vision obscured again by a washcloth dropped onto his face.

"Oh?" Jesse asks, amusement in the timbre of his voice.

"Oh, that feels nice," Ryan sighs, muffled by the cloth, though 'nice' is an understatement: the washcloth is damp and cold, and it feels like heaven on his sweaty, flushed skin. He lifts a corner of the cloth to look up at his boyfriend, crouched by his side. "I mean, it _never_ got this hot in Vermont. I didn't even know it _could_ get this hot until I moved to Miami. But I guess I don't regret it that much," he says, using the cloth to mop at his face and neck. "I never would have met you if I'd stayed up North."

Jesse smiles fondly at him, then leans down to kiss him until Ryan weakly swats him away a second later. He slips his own wet washcloth from its perch around the back of his neck and flops down next to him. "This actually help any?"

"Not really," he says, mopping at his neck again, then wiping the sticky sweat from his arms. "But I figure it's better than lying on the carpet. Or the couch." He rucks up his shirt and drapes the washcloth over his stomach, holding in an exclamation at the sudden cold on the sensitive skin.

"Hm," Jesse says, and drops his cloth onto his face and settles in until their discomfort finally outweighs their desire never to move again, the inch of space he's left between their hands the only contact either of them can stand until the A/C guy makes it down tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> 30\. Weak, sweaty kisses because it's unbearably hot


End file.
